Without the Rain
by Qym
Summary: In a dystopian AU where it never rains, Holtzmann drops in on Erin unannounced and uninvited-and Erin finds her life turned upside down. Minor Non-Graphic Torture and Mild Sensuality warnings.
1. Chapter 1

At half past one, Erin leaned back from her work and rubbed her eyes. She was tired, and she was sweating. Over the past few weeks, the heat had been increasing steadily, to the point where there were dehydration warnings blaring on every channel of the wire. She was thirsty, but she didn't want to waste her liquid ration for the day before she ate her midday meal. She licked her dry lips and tried to divert her mind.

Unfortunately, there was little to do but continue working on her equations—however, her mind refused to focus. She was well ahead of where the government expected her to be, so she preferred to relax. Were the day cooler, she would have gone down to the pond and dunked her head, but even that small oasis was drying up. Wiping at her forehead, she pushed from her desk and walked to the window, which was cocked open in the hopes that a breeze would bluster through.

Across the street, there was a man lying on his stomach. He wasn't moving, and there was shattered glass around his form. She shifted her gaze up and spotted a broken window and deduced what happened: he'd fallen out from the fourth floor. Erin ducked back and closed her eyes. He was hardly the first dead person she'd seen, especially after the regime change, but seeing death never got any easier.

She still recalled with painful clarity the first corpse she ever encountered. She was eight. She'd gone to deliver a pie to the crotchety neighbor, only to find the old woman face up, wide-eyed, and decaying. The woman had haunted her dreams for a year or two after, and Erin spent a few years in therapy dealing with her sudden mortal dread.

Even now, she sometimes feared that she'd die before she woke up and that nobody would find her until she'd all but rotted away. Her mother had suggested getting a roommate to have someone around in case of an accident, but she preferred her solitude. She didn't get along with most people, who found her a bit awkward. Either way, she wasn't going to allow another person into her living space just to avoid her fear of dying alone. She had convinced her mother it was just easier if someone called to check on her every day or two.

She returned to the window and checked outside once more; the way was clear, and she sighed with relief. She hadn't expected the street cleaners to be so timely, given the weather. Thanks to the drought, everyone in Manhattan was hungry, thirsty, and overworked. All they needed was a spot of rain, but the skies remained cloudless and the sun relentless.

Heading to the kitchen, she decided she'd put off lunch long enough. She pulled her bag of bread from atop the cooling unit and a jar of jam from within. Before she could properly slather a piece of bread with jam, there came a slamming on her door, followed by a quiet: "Dr. Gilbert? Are you in there?"

She sighed. Nobody but Abby or Patty ever came to visit her socially, which meant that whoever this was, their intentions were likely business. She hated dealing with other scientists who thought her work was wrong or wanted an argument. She undid four locks and opened the door.

If the woman before her was a scientist, she'd be very surprised. There was no requisite uniform and no personal identification badge just above the right breast. Instead, the woman wore striped suspenders, a white t-shirt, and hot pink shorts. Erin gaped.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, I hope so." The woman sidled by. "Patty said you'd be cool if I came here."

"Patty… Tolan? That Patty?"

"Yes, that Patty. The best Patty. The only Patty." The woman whirled around. "I told her not to contact you. Can't let them know where I'm at."

Erin glanced out the door, wondering if she ought to run. She'd murderPatty if this person ended up being some sort of deranged killer. Not wanting to cause any upset, she said, "No, I suppose not."

"Close the door before someone sees me."

With one last, longing look cast at freedom, Erin did as she was told. She folded her arms and glowered at her uninvited guest, who flopped onto her sofa as if this were an everyday occurrence. Erin slapped the woman's dirty sneakers from atop her coffee table.

"Um, who are you?"

The woman kicked her shoes off and put her feet back up, as if the shoes were the problem. "Holtzmann."

"Just Holtzmann?"

"It's probably safer for us both if that's all you know."

Something large and sour lodged in Erin's throat. "Are you in trouble? Why would Patty send a criminal to me? What is going on?"

"I'm not a criminal," Holtzmann assured her, sitting up and holding out her hands. "I'm a nuclear engineer, who might have run into a teensy tiny problemwiththeBradleymob."

"The Bradley mob?" Erin hated the way her voice pitched up into a grating screech. "Are you trying to get us both killed?"

"Mostly trying not to die, actually."

Erin paced the room, unsure of what she should do next. She was harboring a fugitive, in a way. The actual government was inefficient and distracted, so powerful families stepped in to run the daily lives of the people. Messing with one of those families, the Bradleys in particular, was asking for an unfortunate accident. She ran a hand through her hair. She let this woman in, so she looked like she was part of this, even though she wasn't. No amount of begging and pleading would change an enforcer's mind.

"Do you have any idea what you've just done?"

Holtzmann stared at the ground for a moment as she answered: "I've dragged you right into the middle of a mess you didn't ask to be a part of. For that, I'm sorry."

"You're sorry."

"Yes."

"Well—"

"Before you get too angry, I think I should tell you what this is all about. There's a very specific reason Patty sent me here and not somewhere else. So… Will you hear me out?"

Erin squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for patience. "Yes."

She leans on the edge of her desk with her arms folded. She's going to have quite a talk with Patty, if she survives this. This strange woman–Holtzmann–seems to be in a world of trouble, none of which interests Erin in the slightest. Still, she's willing to listen. Whether she likes it or not, she's a part of this mess now, so she might as well know what it's about.

"I've been working on a government project. Like top-level, super secret stuff." Holtz reaches up and nervously toys with the dangling charm on her silver chain necklace. Jewelry isn't in vogue these days. Even when it was, Erin can't recall seeing something like that around anyone's neck. The charm is a hollow circle, and within dangles a 'U' with a screw through it; a screw plunges through the letter. Holtz's fingers tangle in the space where there is no metal.

"And?"

"And I found some information I shouldn't have . The head of the lab told me to forget I ever saw it, but I just can't do that." Holtz buries her head in her hands. "I needed to get it to someone who can help me fix everything."

"Everything?" Erin's brow furrows. There's a lot missing from Holtz's story, but the less she knows, the safer she might be. Then again, if the Bradley mob catches up with her, they won't believe her ignorance. They'll torture her for answers anyway. Whatever this secret is, Holtz must think it's more valuable than her life. Regardless of the danger, she needs to know more if Holtz expects her to help.

Getting quickly to her feet, Holtz goes to the window and gestures outside. "Everything."

"I still don't catch your meaning."

"Do you ever wonder why we haven't had rain in close to three decades?"

Erin shrugs. As a five-year-old, she'd stood outside in a downpour with her mouth open and her arms spread. Her mother hid under an umbrella a few yards away. She remembers the soft splatter of water on her cheeks and the security in her mother's smile. She doesn't know if that's the last time it rained, but it might as well have been. Since her childhood, there's been only a few, light showers, and they were never anywhere near her.

"I never thought about it before. I'm not a meteorologist."

"But you are an expert in your field. So am I." Holtz returns to the couch. "When I read through those files, I knew exactly what it meant. You would, too."

"Please, just tell me what's going on."

"The Bradley family is controlling the weather."

Erin stutters out a laugh. "That's ridiculous. Doing that would have massive ramifications–there would be planet-wide implications."

"Dr. Gilbert, I encourage you to look outside and ask yourself how much worse things have to get before you're willing to accept the truth."

"You're not joking." The half-smile that had previously tugged at her lips dies.

"I am not. The thing is, there was an alarm system on those files, so the mob figured out that someone at my lab had seen them. I fled."

"Your co-workers…"

"I know." Holtz grips her temples again and squeezes her eyes shut. When she speaks next, her voice is taut. "I don't want to think about it. But I know."

Erin grits her teeth. "Yet you came storming in here, knowing that I'll die, too."

"I don't want you to die! I want you to help. Please. I talked to Patty in secret, and she told me that you were an expert at particle physics. I can build just about anything, but I need someone to help with the theoretical portion. We can stop this heat. We can…" Holtz grimaces. She sighs and wipes her palms on her shorts. Her shoulders inch up toward her ears, and she looks out to the window. "Look, if you're not willing to help, I'll go."

"I didn't say I wouldn't help. You dragged me in on this, Holtzmann. I'm part of this, now." Erin straightens her blouse and stands a bit taller. "If they're really controlling the weather, we need to stop them."

Holtz brightens. "Really?"

The expression on Holtz's face is endearing. Erin fights the wave of affection that builds and shrugs. "They shouldn't be allowed to ruin the environment like this. The world needs water. Do you know how many species have gone extinct?"

"Not to mention the control they have over everyone."

"Oh. I hadn't thought about that."

"We're all so dependent on our rations, and why? Because water has become a commodity." Holtz laces her fingers and pushes her palms out, cracking her knuckles. "I think it's about time we brought it back."

This feels like an enormous responsibility. Erin squeezes the edge of the desk in a vain attempt to relieve some anxiety. She had her penchant for fidgeting schooled out of her, but sometimes, the urge is too strong. "What–what do you…?" She collects herself and tries again. "How can I help?"

"Do you have some paper?"

"I prefer to work on a whiteboard."

Holtz glances around. "Where is it, then?"

Erin returns to her desk and presses a small button hidden underneath. The wall behind her desk shifts and flips, revealing her real workspace. "I had this installed when I was working on a private matter some months ago. Nobody can see what I'm working on, or steal it away."

"I owe Patty big," Holtz mutters as she stands. "Can I erase this?"

"One moment." Erin searches in her drawers and retrieves a small imager, which she uses to capture all of her current work. "For later," she explains.

Holtz wipes the board clean and scrawls a number of different ideas and designs. She ends up standing atop the desk, but Erin doesn't comment. The whiteboard's contents are too fascinating for her to bother complaining about such a paltry detail. Erin rubs her chin and follows from one drawing to the next. When Holtz finishes, they both stand back and stare.

"This isn't going to be easy."

"No."

"Where are we going to get the parts?"

"I don't know, yet."

Erin sighs and nods. "Okay, well, it's a start."

Holtz grabs her hands and clutches them tightly; concern and appreciation shows blatantly on her face. "Thank you, Dr. Gilbert. I don't know where I would have gone if you'd shut your door in my face."

"You can call me Erin," she chokes out, the sudden contact making it difficult for her to breathe.

"Nice to meet you, Erin." Holtz kisses her knuckles and winks. "We're gonna make magic together, I just know it."

0000

Erin stares down at the limited rations and hesitates. Alone in the kitchen, she struggles with her current conundrum: her intake designation is for one person, yet there are two hungry people in her home. She listens to the grumble of her stomach and wants desperately to just eat the whole portion herself. After all, she doesn't owe Holtzmann anything–especially since Holtzmann dragged her into a life or death situation.

She steals a quick peek into the living room and watches Holtz shimmy along with a menial song playing from the wire. Unaware of her audience, Holtz rocks her head in time with the notes and knocks her hips back and forth. She uses a whiteboard marker as a microphone and sings out the final few lyrics before thrusting her fist out and dropping the marker to the ground. She wipes her forehead and drops to the couch. With deft fingers, she quickly returns her flopping hair to its original, tousled style.

Erin's heart thuds a bit quicker. She shouldn't let her heart make her mind's decisions. She needs this food. She doesn't need to feed this interloper. Logically, she knows this, but for whatever reason, she also needs Holtz to like her. Defeated by her traitorous emotions, she halves her sandwich and empties part the water bottle into a cup. Food in hand, she enters the living room with a halfhearted smile.

"Hungry?"

The look Holtz gives her is both searching and full of wonderment. "That's your food ration."

"Well, yes."

"You don't have to share."

"You have an alternative way of making sure you don't die of starvation?"

Holtz settles her hands atop her thighs and shrugs. Erin finds her gaze drawn to the pale skin of Holtz's knees. There's a scab on the left one, just barely healed over. Holtz's finger scratches lower and picks at the edge as her other foot bounces against the floor.

"I know some people?" she offers weakly. "And I usually keep some stuff in my pockets to munch on."

"Oh?"

Holtz digs into her shorts and withdraws a single peanut. Her smile fades. "Well, I normally have more than this."

"Would you like half a sandwich?"

"I'll figure something out, I promise."

Holtz takes the sandwich and the cup and nibbles on the edge. Erin sits at her desk, not touching her food just yet. When Holtz all but inhales her half, Erin looks down at her meal and sighs. She crosses the room again and shoves the other half into Holtz's hands.

"You haven't eaten in a while, have you?"

"Hard to get my ration when there are people looking for me." Holtz shrugs. "Are you sure? You won't get to eat anything at all."

"I can afford to miss one meal. Besides, I'll have my water, and we can split breakfast tomorrow. Then I'll call Patty and see if she can help us out with getting food."

"Think Patty'll really be able to help?"

"How well do you know Patty?"

"I met her a few years ago. Ran into her at the library, and had a good talk about the meaning of life. I think it's about fun, but she's all about the acquisition of knowledge."

"Then you ought to know that she's the one to talk to if you need to know something. She gave you my name, didn't she?"

"Yeah."

"She'll know how to get more food."

Later, as Erin lies in bed and stares at the ceiling, her stomach grumbles. She clasps her belly and rolls onto her side. She's grown used to small portions but not to having nothing at all. Although she doesn't regret her choice, she wishes that the world could be different. She supposes that's why Holtz is currently sleeping on her couch. They have the chance to fix things–a chance to bring back the rain.

Her mother used to have a garden. They used to have fresh cherry tomatoes on top of their salads, which she used to sneak onto her father's plate. She had helped her mother weed one summer, back before the sun could blister skin after only fifteen minutes of direct exposure. Her father had sprayed her with the hose, and her clothing had gotten muddy to the point that he had spent hours scrubbing the stains out.

She wonders if the soil will sustain a garden once they bring the rain back. She currently lives in an apartment, but she can imagine moving into a ranch-style home with a small backyard. She could plant tomatoes, like her mother. For a single, silly moment, she pictures Holtz there with her, spraying her with the hose. She banishes the absurd thought and closes her eyes a bit tighter.

She doesn't want to make any assumptions before they make any progress. She's gotten her hopes up too early before, and the resulting disappointment was crushing. No, she'll temper her enthusiasm with a harsh dose of reality. Even if they can return the weather to some semblance of the natural order, the negative effects will not be reversed overnight. Her dreams of a garden will stay dreams.

She rubs her forehead and flops onto her back once more. Sleep is proving to be very elusive, so she sits up and grimaces. Padding down the hallway, she shoves Holtz's feet from the couch and settles in. She gestures at the wire, which immediately floods the blank white wall directly ahead with moving images. Despite the movement and the sudden noise, Holtz snores quietly onward. Erin flips her finger down, and the image changes. Choosing a news report, she does her best to distract her racing brain. Part of her had hoped that Holtz would awaken so they could converse, yet she can't deny that she's more comfortable here on the couch, jammed next to Holtz, than alone in her bed.

Her hands move of their own volition, picking up one of Holtz's feet, which is hidden away in an oversized sock. They work the sock off and dig her fingers into the Holtz's sole. Holtz groans quietly, and Erin checks briefly to make sure she's still asleep. Massaging a stranger's foot is admittedly strange behavior, but the repetitive motions are relaxing. As long as Holtz snoozes through this, she sees no reason to stop. She'll never tell, and Holtz will never know.

Maybe she's just lonely, but she's growing attached to this stranger.

0000

"You're not going to like it."

Erin sighs. "I never do."

"You remember Jenn?" Patty stands in the hallway outside her apartment. From within comes sounds of rambunctious shouting; Patty's father and brother are there for a visit, which always leads to intense board game sessions. Erin is sorry to interrupt, but Patty seems grateful.

"With the mayor's office?"

"Yeah, her. She got pregnant about a month and a half ago."

Unsure of where this is leading, Erin tilts her head. "So?"

"So, the government is all about keeping the population up, so she's getting extra rations."

At first, Erin wonders if she's supposed to get pregnant to get more food from the government, but then she realizes Patty's true meaning. "Patty, I am not taking food from a pregnant woman."

Patty rolls her eyes. "I wouldn't ask you to. She miscarried a bit after, but she hasn't told the government. She's getting extra rations until her next mandated health appointment."

"Why would she give them to me?"

"She owes me a favor."

Erin stares for a moment, wondering just what Jenn did to incur this debt. However, Patty is less than forthcoming, so Erin lets the matter go. She ought to simply be grateful that there's hope. She hesitates when she realizes that in taking this favor, she'll owe Patty one as well. This is only fair, but she's not sure what she has that is of equal value.

"What do you want from me?"

Patty rocks back and folds her arms. "Our mutual friend told me what she's up to. I think it'd be pretty great." After a moment, Patty narrows her eyes and looks more intently at her. "For everyone."

"Oh."

"Yeah. I have to get back inside before they burn my place down over Pengology. James always thinks Dad is cheating. I'll have Jenn pay you a visit, okay?"

Erin hugs Patty suddenly. The taller woman welcomes the embrace and lifts her briefly off her feet. Her back cracks as Patty's grip tightens. "Thank you, Patty. So much."

Patty tousles her hair. "Just make sure our mutual friend doesn't let anything explode."

"I will." She watches Patty return inside with a small smile–Patty immediately reaches up to tug on her tight, brightly colored braids at the sounds of a heinous argument about in-game commerce and cheating.

Erin strolls away, hands tucked in her pockets. She hadn't expected Patty to have a solution so readily, but she supposes she shouldn't have underestimated her friend. Although Patty doesn't directly want anything back for the favor, she'll have to figure out some method of repayment. Patty works hard to help everyone and deserves something nice for her efforts.

As she steps onto the street, she pops her dark parasol open and hurries down the sidewalk. The oppressive heat makes the air appear to shimmer. By the time she returns home, her jumpsuit is drenched in sweat; she ignores Holtz in favor of hurrying to shower herself clean and change into a shirt that doesn't smell.

"I had an idea while you were out," Holtz calls through the bathroom door.

Erin grimaces when the water cuts out abruptly. Under the rationing system, showers only run for one minute and thirty seconds a day, which is usually just enough for one task. Two days ago, she had washed her hair. Today, she'd accomplished sudsing herself up. Feeling grimy, she reaches for her towel and rubs the leftover soap away. She wraps the towel around her body and pulls the door open.

"About what?"

Holtz is silent for a moment, her eyes openly traveling down Erin's body and then back up. "Oh."

"Holtz?"

"Ah, about the–the machine." Holtz gulps visibly and grins. "Get dressed, and we'll talk about it."

Erin tries not to focus on how warm she feels thanks to Holtz's appreciation of her form. She heads to her bedroom and pulls on a shirt. Nothing is truly clean–and won't be until the designated laundry day for her sect of the city. However, this shirt doesn't smell and isn't visibly soiled. The same goes for her undergarments and pajama pants.

When she enters the living room, she notes with some frustration that Holtz has disassembled her microwave. Her lips curl into a frown, and her hands find her hips. "What are you doing?"

"I needed some parts."

"So, you just ransacked my apartment?"

"I wouldn't say ransacked." Holtz thinks for a moment and offers, "I deliberately located an item from your kitchen."

"You know what I mean."

"Sorry." Erin got the distinct feeling that Holtz is no such thing. "I mean, how often do you even use this thing?"

Not often, Erin has to admit. Rather than do so aloud, she shifts the discussion elsewhere. "Patty figured out our problem. We'll have more food by the end of the day."

"That's fantastic. I need your beautiful brain operating at maximum efficiency."

Flustered by the praise, Erin flushes. Recalling that Holtz had something she wanted to talk about, she asks, "What's this idea you had?"

While Holtz launches into a long, rambling discussion of the way they can build their contraption, Erin loses herself in how passionately Holtz talks, from the animated gestures to the sparkling eyes. She realizes she's staring and purposely shifts her gaze to the scrap metal that was once her microwave. A lot of what Holtz says is a bit too technical for her, but she understands just enough that her mind is quickly clicking through the theoretical aspects that may come into play.

"I don't think that last part will necessarily function the way you expect it to."

Holtz shrugs. "This is why I need you. I have a lot of ideas, but I can't promise all of them are gems."

"No, this is good. I just have to think through the implications, and how they'd impact the functionality." Erin's mind clatters along, and she picks up a shiny scrap to fiddle with while she thinks.

Holtz grabs her ears and pulls her down, kissing the crown of her head. "Funderful, Dr. Gilbert. Truly funderful."

"Big on physical contact, huh?"

Holtz smirks. "I seem to recall an excellent foot rub last night that suggests you are, too."

"Wh-what? What are you even talking about?" Sweat abruptly breaks out at her temples, and it has nothing to do with the temperature.

"Don't be coy, Erin."

"I thought you were asleep." Mortified, Erin skitters back a few feet. "I–I must seem like the biggest creep ever."

Holtz flaps a hand and blows Erin a kiss. "I don't mind. You can touch me anywhere, anytime."

Erin's ears heat at the innuendo. "Oh, gosh."

Holtz winks playfully. "I mean it, babe."

0000

"The thing is," Holtz says around a mouthful of spaghetti, "that we live in a time and place that doesn't have space for normal people."

Erin nods. She's not one for these sorts of discussions, however, so she doesn't add her own thoughts. 'Normal' is not a term she cares for in any setting. Then, of course, there's the fact that almost every civilization has a privileged few who have a higher quality of life than most. She doesn't agree with using the weather as a means of oppression, but she also doesn't doubt that the controlling class would have simply found a different means.

Holtz dabs at her lips and continues, "Like, you can tell exactly what bullshit society values by where food is expended. Top of the ladder gets whatever they want."

"They're rationed, too," Erin offers weakly.

"Have you ever looked up how much they're rationed? It's definitely not a measly sandwich for dinner."

"I suppose not."

"They want to keep lower class citizens alive but not too strong–just enough, y'know, to keep everyone working. And they give a bit more food to pregnant women because with how fast people die these days, they can't let the population dip too low. If there aren't workers, then who'll do the work?

"Then there's the jobs that aren't deemed totally necessary. Have you seen how much they feed teachers? My little brother teaches elementary school, and sometimes, he passes out in class. He says the kids don't complain because they get to dick around–but think about that at a societal level. Whoever's at the top dishing out the food doesn't care if kids are educated because when those kids grow up, it's better if they're not thinking too hard about the tough problems."

Erin shifts uncomfortably. Years have transpired since her own lower education, and she hasn't given a single thought to elementary and middle schools since. There's a lot about the world that doesn't directly impact her or her work, and she feels a bit ashamed of her own ignorance.

Holtz ignores her silence and concludes: "So, that's why we have to do this. We can't have some sort of food oligopsony."

"They'll find some other way," Erin whispers, tentative.

"One battle at a time." Holtz places a hand on her knee and squeezes. "Not everyone is as fired up as I am, and that's okay."

"You know you could get arrested for talking the way you do."

"Good thing you're not going to tell on me, right? You don't seem like a snitch."

Erin titters and flushes. "No, of course not."

She clears their plates and places them in the sink for later. From atop the stove, she takes the now-cool pot of hot water in which she'd made the spaghetti and carefully drains the water into a pitcher. That pitcher is placed in the fridge until the next time she needs to boil noodles. She stands before the fridge a moment longer simply to feel the cool air.

Returning to the living room, she finds Holtz standing in front of the whiteboard, a hand on her chin scratching thoughtfully. She comes to rest beside the thinking woman and tilts her head.

"I just need another few days to nail down some of your ideas, and then we can figure out how to build it."

"I can build anything," Holtz promises, and Erin tacitly understands this is not boasting but just an accurate statement of skill.

"We'll need to find materials."

"I'd use one of my old contacts, but I bet they're being watched."

Erin frowns. "I can't use Patty again. We already owe her for the food."

"You could go dumpster diving."

"What? No way."

"Erin." A whine enters Holtz's tone, and she clasps her hands tightly in front of her chest. Her chin juts out, and her lower lip wobbles. "Pwease?"

"Stop that."

"C'mon. It's not as bad as you might think. I'm not talking about going through the dumpster behind a restaurant. The stuff I need'll come from a trash source that's a lot less rotten food and a lot more thrown-out computers and electronics equipment."

Hating that she's actually considering this, Erin huffs and struts to the window to look out at the street. A young woman walks along the sidewalk, parasol in one hand and the grubby fist of a small child in the other. Despite the heat, the child has most of their skin covered by cloth. The pair duck into every stoop they reach for a reprieve from the sun before continuing onward.

Erin has never planned on having children, despite her father's desire for grandchildren. They're cute enough, from a distance, but she's not exactly the sort of person who knows how to interact with a young person. That said, she's not heartless. She can't watch the pair struggle down the street, knowing she could make a difference, and remain apathetic. She grimaces and tugs on the end of her ponytail.

"Fine. I'll… I'll dumpster dive."

"That's my girl!" Holtz grips her shoulder and twirls about. There's a moment of hesitation, and they merely stare at one another while Holtz realizes what she said. "What I mean is–"

Erin removes her hand and pats it awkwardly. "It's okay. I get it. You were excited. We should get back to work."

"Right. Excited."

Because she turns around and marches to the desk, she misses the longing look Holtz gives her. She sits and grabs a red marker, the cap of which goes automatically between her teeth. Gnawing, she begins working through an intricate problem. The power output this device will require is higher than the usual power sources she's worked with. This doesn't make their solution impossible, but she needs to figure out a means of generating what they need–without causing a massive explosion.

When she breaks two hours later with a sore spine, Holtz is tinkering with the ruins of her microwave. She wants to say something, but her voice catches in her throat. After a moment, she heads to her bedroom for a bit of time to herself.

0000

She shoots a baleful glance at the dumpster. Holtz was right that there wasn't a bunch of disgusting garbage inside, but she feels so dirty. No matter what's inside, a garbage receptacle is not the cleanest place, nor the most hygienic. Her skin crawls as she considers all the grime she's come into contact with. She has a bag full of parts for her efforts but will not be able to luxuriate in a shower when she returns home.

She's just grateful the process only ate up two hours of her life. At least she has time to slink home and do her best to clean up. She's willing to waste her water allotment for lunch on wetting a washcloth, if just to mop up her armpits and lower back. Not to mention how filthy her hands feel. By the time she gets home, she's smelly. So smelly, in fact, that Holtz repels back two steps when she enters.

Adopting a sure smile, Holtz wrinkles her nose. "Did you get everything?"

"I got what I could fine," she replies, dropping the bag and shutting the door. "Not everybody knows what a Trans Imaging Modulator looks like. Maybe draw a picture next time."

"Oh, yes. The TIM."

"Sure." Erin grimaces. "But I did my best."

"That's all I can ask."

"If you're missing anything else, I'll go again tomorrow." Erin winces at the thought and prays fervently that Holtz has enough to get started.

Holtz touches her shoulder gently, and Erin tries not to lean in. Holtz is awfully kind, especially given her stink. "I didn't shower this morning. I know we've been trading off and on, but I figured you might need my water today."

Erin wants to kiss her. She even leans in a bit before freezing and clearing her throat. Instead, she nods appreciatively and disappears into the bathroom. For a moment, she stands stock still and lets her pounding heart slow down. Then, peeling off her clothing, she steps into the shower unit and presses the button to start the water. She immediately nabs the soap and washes the important areas. With the remainder of her time, she stands with her head tilted toward the shower head and lets the water pelt her face.

She wraps herself in her towel and dries off quickly.

"Erin?" Holtz raps at the door. "Did anyone happen to see you?"

Erin pauses. "I… I'm not sure. Maybe? Why?"

"There are some guys just standing around across the street."

"Maybe they're waiting for someone."

"Yeah, maybe."

Erin opens the door and steps out. She heads to the window in the living room and peers down at the street. The men standing under parasols across the street don't have the right posture for people casually waiting for a friend. In fact, they're rather rigid. One looks up at her window, and she flinches back.

"I might be a little paranoid," Holtz offers. "Seeing things that aren't there, y'know?"

"I might be, too. But if they are here for us, what do we do?"

Holtz rubs the back of her neck. "Are there any empty apartments in this complex?"

"Maybe? I don't know."

"Anything nearby, then?"

"I don't know." Her nerves jangle unpleasantly.

Holtz stares at the whiteboard for a moment and brightens. "Did you ever get anything else installed for privacy?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like a little hiding spot for secret things."

"I don't have secret things."

"Can I make one?"

Erin hesitates. "Well…"

"Remember that we don't have a lot of time. I promise I'll be quick and quiet. I just need somewhere small that I can hide if they come in looking for me. You can explain that your microwave broke, and you didn't have the credits to replace it. You went dumpster diving for electronics parts to fix it yourself."

Understanding this to be their best option, Erin nods slowly. "What do you need?"

"Empty your hamper. I'll need somewhere to hide debris until they're gone." Holtz scampers to the kitchen and strains to pull the fridge away from the wall.

Erin grabs her hamper and dumps the clothing out. When she enters the kitchen again, Holtz has already taken a knife and spoon to the space behind the fridge. Erin sweeps up dust and pieces of the wall as Holtz carves out a rounded alcove. It's not neat, and it's not pretty. But, Erin has to admit, it might just do the job. Holtz wipes dirt and sweat from her forehead.

"Good thing all the buildings have really gone to crap lately, huh? Can't imagine doing that to a real solid wall."

"I'm sorry I took the shower."

Holtz laughs and shrugs. "I don't mind getting sweaty for you, babe."

Erin's heart flutters as her cheeks heat. However, she's a bit tentative–she's come across people who talk and flirt as easily as Holtz does. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, of course."

Taking a deep breath, Erin whispers, "Is it a joke to you? Flirting with me, I mean."

"I…"

"Because if it is, please stop."

Holtz nabs her hands and guides her to the couch. She sits, a little uncomfortable. For a few moments, all Holtz can do is fiddle with her fingers.

"It's not a joke."

"Then what is it?"

"You're very attractive. I like that about you." Holtz sighs. "At the same time, is this really the best time to try and woo a pretty woman? Probably not. So, it's not a joke. But…"

"But it's not real."

Holtz winces. "I don't like hearing you put it that way."

Erin nods twice, stiffly. Her chest feels heavy with anxiety, and she wishes she hadn't asked. "I'd appreciate it if you'd stop."

"If that's what you want…"

"It is."

"Then I can do that." Holtz averts her gaze and stands. "I never meant to upset you."

Erin manages a tight smile. "When I was in high school, a senior boy asked me out as a dare. Since then, I've had a hard time figuring out if someone is being honest or not. I just… I like to know where I stand with people."

"That's awful. What's his name? Do you want me to beat him up?"

"I think we're in enough trouble as it is, Holtz."

"When this is all over, you're telling me his name, and I'm paying him a visit."

Erin relaxes, feeling infinitely lighter. She likes Holtz, even if nothing is going to happen, and she loves that Holtz isn't going to toy with her.


	2. Chapter 2

Holtz ducks inside the opening, and Erin eases the fridge back into position. When she whispers Holtz's name, she gets a brief, positive response–there's enough space, even if it isn't very comfortable. She's about to let Holtz free once more when there's a knock at the door. She grabs the laundry bag full of rubble, drags it to the bedroom, and dumps several layers of dirty clothing on top. The knock sounds again, more insistent.

"Be right there!"

Straightening her shirt, she hurries over and pulls the door open. Several of the gentlemen from outside leer at her and into the apartment. She shifts the door a bit wider, to prove that she's definitely not hiding anything–or anyone–within.

"Can I help you?" She keeps her hands steady by bracing one on the knob and the other on her hip.

"We're coming inside," the tallest announces. There's no leeway in his voice to suggest she can argue. She steps nimbly out of the way and allows them to barge past her. If she doesn't resist, they'll hopefully leave without hurting her.

The one with a shock of orange hair heads down the hallway to her bedroom, and all she can do is stutter out a quiet complaint that gets completely ignored. Bald and angry, the final member of the triad looms before her, as the tall one opens the fridge door.

"What is this about?" she manages to ask.

"We'll let you know," Bald-and-Angry replies curtly. He watches her expression, and she does her best to look confused, frustrated, and innocent. The emotions are hard to juggle, especially since only one of them is honest.

"You have no right to come into my home like this."

"Erin Gilbert. Forty-one years old. Single. Mother deceased. Father in Augusta. No siblings. Employed by Columbia Technologies. Physicist." He looms closer, and she shrinks back. Pretending to be a bit frightened is no problem, not when any of the three intruders could snap her in half. "Deemed by the State to be of lesser importance. Your disappearance would not be investigated."

Her lips quiver. She doesn't like this one bit, but she supposes it's just lucky happenstance that they managed to hide Holtz before this interruption. Looking at the fridge would direct their attention there, so she gazes down the hallway toward her bedroom. She takes a half-step in that direction, but Bald-and-Angry grabs her arm. Wincing, she tries to get free herself from his vice-like grip.

"Stay."

"But–"

"Stay," he repeats, tightening his grasp.

A small yelp of pain escapes her, and she ducks her head. Tears gather in her eyes, both from the pain and the treatment, but she refuses to cry in front of any of these strangers. She swallows hard and bites her inner cheek.

Unable to resist, she glances toward the kitchen, where Tall is rifling through her mostly empty cabinets. Her eyes drift to the linoleum, and her heart rate jack hammers at the sight of slight scratches–proof that she's shifted the fridge out. She immediately stares out the window, hoping that any increase in nervousness will be attributed to his rough handling. When he thrusts her away, she hits the wall and crumples to the ground, cradling her arm to her chest.

Orange-Hair and Tall join Bald-and-Angry in the living room. Erin doesn't try to get up.

"Nothing in the bedroom. A few extra pairs of clothes, but it's been hot."

"Extra food in the trash. Could be indicative of a visitor."

Erin summons her courage. "My friend Jenn came by yesterday."

They ignore her.

Bald-and-Angry stalks to the bag of collected parts and dumps the mess on her floor. She cringes at the clatter and at dirt that tumbles into the cracks of her hardwood. They sort through her selection and then tower over her.

"Why were you collecting parts?"

The lie is prepared, but Erin has a hard time talking through her anxiety. She squeezes her eyes shut and recites, "My microwave. My microwave broke. I-I couldn't afford to get it repaired." She sucks in another breath and continues, her voice still quaking. "I went looking for parts to fix it myself."

"These parts aren't for microwaves."

"I don't know what I'm doing," she admits quietly. "I've never worked on a microwave before."

"Would you listen to that?" Orange-Hair laughs. "Two Ph.D.s and can't work a fucking microwave."

She bristles but wants to avoid further confrontation. They argue among themselves for several minutes, and she keeps her eyes fixated on the floor. Whatever happens, she can't let them find Holtz. As Bald-and-Angry pointed out earlier, her disappearance wouldn't warrant an investigation. They could kill her, and nobody would care. That would likely go for Holtzmann, as well. Both of their lives depend on these three men leaving without suspicion.

"So, you won't mind if we take this stuff with us?"

Trembling ever so slightly, she shakes her head. "I'll save up for a new microwave. I promise."

The men laugh again, and Tall lunges in her direction. When she flinches away and covers her face, they laugh harder. They dump the parts back in the bag, kick at her legs, and then leave. After a minute, she staggers up and closes the door. With quaking fingers, she fumbles with the lock.

Her stomach roils. Feeling on the verge of vomiting, she makes it to the window and watches the men head down the street. Tall pauses and gazes up at her window. He smiles and waves, and she jerks back into the shadows. All three are out there, so she quietly moves to the fridge and pulls it forward. Holtz tumbles out and immediately sweeps her up in a hug.

"Are you okay?"

She wants to lie. She wants to tell Holtz that she's perfectly fine–those guys were jerks, and she's better than them. Her arm doesn't hurt. She didn't just expect to get murdered. All in all, this is a painfully normal day, nothing that she can't handle.

But as she looks into Holtz's concerned blue eyes, something within her cracks. She mutely shakes her head over and over again. Holtz holds her tight, even when her legs give way. They cling together silently until long after the sun goes down.

0000

She kisses Holtz.

Hiding in bed later with the sheets over her head, she tries to forget the feeling of Holtz's lips on hers. As much as she wants the comfort Holtz has to offer, she has to regret what she did. She's emotionally vulnerable, hurt, and tired–in other words, she's in no position to make romantic advances. Even now, she can hear Holtz's apologies, despite Holtz having done nothing wrong. She holds her fingers to her mouth and squeezes her eyes shut.

What Holtz said before is completely true. This is not the time nor the place to start any sort of relationship, and she shouldn't spoil the easy rapport between them. No, she'll enter the living room in the morning as if nothing has changed. Nothing does have to change, after all. They can both forget her hasty action done in a single, thoughtless moment.

Except she can't quite do that. All she can remember is how soft Holtz's lips were and how solid Holtz's hand on her hip was. She remembers the peace, too, and how the buzzing of the outside world drained away. The sudden barrage of sweat came not from the blistering heat, but from the wave of affection–and then embarrassment–after she realized what she'd done.

She doesn't sleep well that night. Her arm pains her, which means she can't lie comfortably on her usual side. Every creak in the building is the men coming back, and her heart never slows to a steady, calm pace. She hears Holtz moving around the apartment, which is a small comfort. If Holtz is out, then there's no danger. However, eventually, there are no more footsteps, and Erin is left to deal with her thoughts and insomnia in the dark.

With her scavenged parts gone, they'll have to find a new resource. Otherwise, all their efforts are for naught. As much as she hates to drag her best friend into this mess, she needs to contact Abby. Abby's lab is much more focused on practical application, whereas hers is wholly theoretical. If anyone can help them out, it will be her. Erin's stomach clenches; visiting will put Abby be in just as much danger as they are.

But she has to. She can't think of anything else plausible, short of going to the government. That's even riskier, as they can't be sure that the government isn't just a puppet for the mobs. She wonders if a different mob family would be willing to protect them from the Bradleys. However, they'd need information on which families are aware of the weather machine, and that just isn't within their resources.

Her mind tumbles in anxious circles until the sun peeks through the window. She rubs her eyes, exhausted and worried, and drags herself out of bed. She trades her pajamas for a drab uniform. Scrawling a note for Holtz, she leaves.

The trip to Abby's apartment is short, and she only has to knock once before her friend lets her inside. She drops into a chair and holds her temples. Abby wordlessly sits beside her and waits until she finds her words.

"I'm in trouble," she says, voice quiet and ashamed.

"Tell me."

"If I do, you'll be in trouble, too."

Abby moves to her desk, opens a drawer, and flips a switch. A low humming fills the air. She returns to Erin's side and sets a hand on Erin's knee. "Tell me."

Erin lifts her gaze and stares into Abby's eyes. The other woman is earnest, and Erin scoots a little closer. She links their fingers together and takes a deep breath.

"Patty sent a visitor to me."

"I see."

"Are you sure it's safe to talk?"

"That little device in my desk blanks everything out. Instead, it broadcasts the sound of the wire to anyone who might be listening in. I never showed anyone, for obvious reasons."

"Abby, that's dangerous."

"I'd rather have my own security blankets than an illusory protection from an ineffective government."

Erin wonders just how many people she's met who hold similar ideals. She also wonders if she's the only person who hasn't actively worked against the powers that be. She's been too comfortable living in her little apartment, doing her work, and thinking that as long as she's not dead, she's doing okay. She rubs the back of her neck.

"Her name is Holtzmann. She's a doctor of some sort, but I don't know too much about her. But she discovered that the Bradley family has a way of controlling the weather. They're why we haven't had even a light shower in decades."

"And she's got an idea on how to give mother nature her power back?"

"Exactly."

"How can I help?"

"Just like that?"

"Just like that." Abby grins and shakes her knee. "We've known each other forever, Erin. I'm with you, to the end of the line. Anything you need, I'll see what I can do."

Voice adopting a tremor, Erin murmurs, "I don't want you to get hurt."

"Yeah, well, unfortunately, that's out of both of our hands."

"We need parts." Erin sits a little taller. She knows Abby is aware of the potential for danger and injury, and she's willing to trust Abby's decision-making capability. "I went dumpster diving, but someone saw me."

"Oh, shit, yeah. They control all the resources, even the ones they don't want."

"So, how are we supposed to get any?"

"We come up with a bullshit project at work. We'll say it's supposed to, uh, treat badly burned skin. Most people won't know what we're actually doing until it's too late."

"Won't your boss be curious? And your co-workers–"

"Everyone leaves me pretty much alone, especially after the incident."

Erin recalls the small-scale explosion and winces. "This is the first time I've ever been grateful for your destructive tendencies."

"I'm glad you came by. You looked really pale when I let you in. Was this all that's on your mind?"

Gulping, Erin dips her head. "No. This visitor–Holtzmann–I kissed her."

Abby chuckles. "And what did she do?"

"She told me just yesterday that she's not–that we're not–in a good position for a relationship."

"Kissing doesn't mean you have to get married. What did she do?"

Erin flushes. "She kissed me back."

0000

Erin returns home and stands outside her front door for several minutes. She shouldn't be nervous about entering her own abode, but she knows Holtz is in there somewhere. She also knows that they'll have to talk about the kiss, and she really doesn't know what she wants at the moment. After talking through her feelings with Abby, she knows that she feels something real for Holtz; however, she doesn't know if any good will come from being honest. Sucking in a deep breath, she opens the door.

"There you are!"

As she locks the door, she braces. She turns slowly and offers Holtz a hesitant smile. "Yeah. I was out looking for another way to get supplies."

"I've been going over your work, and hot damn! Your beautiful brain is more gorgeous than I could have ever hoped for. If you found us a way to build it, we're pretty much set!"

Holtz beams at her, and her stomach begins to unclench. In the afternoon sunlight, Holtz's hair is a brilliant golden, and her eyes sparkle. Erin looks at her and realizes just how deep her emotions run–and just how doomed she is, given Holtz's stance on relationships at the moment. She should have kept herself more in check; maybe then she wouldn't be staring at Holtz like the world revolves on her smile.

"I… I did find a way to build it," she admits quietly. If they finish this project, then Holtz will go on her merry way, and Erin will be all alone once more. "My friend Abby. She's got a lab."

"Fan-fucking-tastic." Holtz darts a little closer and grabs her wrist. She allows the blonde to drag her to the couch, where they both topple down. She ends up in Holtz's lap, with Holtz's arms around her waist. Her heart races, unsure of what to make of this intimate connection. "You really are the smartest. You know that, right?"

Erin flushes. "Not really. I mean, I do alright–"

"The smartest," Holtz interrupts, bopping a finger against Erin's nose.

"I… Okay. The smartest."

"See? You learn quick."

Erin feels a little delirious, as if she'd taken some strange drug and gone on a hallucinatory trip. There's no other explanation for their proximity and the constant, genuine flattery. She jumps as one of Holtz's hands tickle along her side before coming to rest on the small of her back.

"Holtz?"

"Hm?"

"What is this?"

There's a moment of silence. Erin knows her palms are sweaty, but she can't rub her hands on her uniform without revealing just how anxious she is. Rather, Holtz will see how much she cares about this connection. She isn't comfortable being vulnerable, especially not with someone whose thoughts are impossible to discern.

Finally, Holtz lets her head dip. She twists her fingers in the rough fabric of Erin's uniform. "I don't know."

"I just…" She clears her throat and stares at the opposite wall. "You said you weren't serious."

"I know. I know what I said."

"Then–"

"I don't know."

The silence resumes, and Erin lets her head rest against Holtz's shoulder. She wonders if she should be fighting more stringently against this. Although she wants Holtz, she also wants stability. Safety. She's not sure she'll get either with Holtz, but for some reason that's not nearly as scary as it should be.

"What do you want from me?"

"I don't know," Holtz repeats, her voice soft and distant, despite being so close.

"I know what I want." She twists her head and pulls back enough that she can seek out eye contact. Holtz resists for a moment but gives in. Erin continues, "I want something real, Holtzmann."

"Jill."

"What?"

"My name is Jill. Well, Jillian. Jillian Monroe Holtzmann."

"Jill, then." Erin bolsters her courage. She's already been more forward in the last two minutes than the past twenty years. Still, if everyone she knows can be brave enough to fight the system, she can express her feelings. "I like you, Jill. I want to see if I can love you."

Holtz's breathing quickens. "I–You don't know me."

"I want to," Erin returns. Deciding to take a risk, she adds, "You said you didn't think now was an appropriate time, but I think now's the best time. Holtz, if I'm about to die, I don't want to go without being brave for just one moment. I don't want to miss another opportunity because I think I'm not good enough."

Finally, Holtz straightens and pulls her closer. "You're more than good enough, Erin Gilbert. You're like the best."

"I'm trying."

"Then I guess I'll have to try, too." Holtz leans in and nudges her nose against Erin's. "I like you, too."

This kiss is mutual, unlike the evening before when Erin had been seeking desperately for comfort. Their lips meet gently at first, and then Holtz's enthusiasm piques. Erin squeaks as Holtz eases her down onto the couch and straddles her hips. Holtz cups her cheeks and hums her approval, while Erin closes her eyes and parts her lips. Taking this subtle invitation, Holtz's tongue slips into her mouth, and she sucks softly.

"Fuck," Holtz mutters a moment later, drawing back far enough to catch her breath. "You're going to kill me, aren't you?"

Erin flushes, proud of herself. "You know, I had the same thought about you when you showed up at my door."

Holtz kisses her again and again. She grips Holtz's hips to keep herself grounded and allows her senses to be overwhelmed. When they retire to bed later, Holtz accompanies her. In the doorway to the bedroom, Holtz kisses her once more. Instead of letting her head back to the couch, Erin takes her hand and guides her inside.

"Just to sleep," she murmurs. "But I think I'll be more comfortable with you beside me."

Holtz clambers under the sheets and pulls her snug. She nestles against the solid body, tangles her fingers with Holtz's, and lets her exhaustion push her eyes shut.

0000

Erin inhales before she opens her eyes. The soft scent of sweat and pine-scented deodorant remind her that she's not alone. She yawns and snuggles closer, smiling as Holtz's arm tightens around her middle. They have so much to do, yet all she wants is to lie in bed just a little bit longer. She feels Holtz's lips on the back of her neck, so she shifts to face the other woman.

"Good morning."

"No kidding. I don't think I've slept that well in my entire life, save of course for my darling baby years. I was the world's cutest baby."

"Uh-huh."

"I'll show you pictures sometime."

Erin imagines that a younger Holtz must have been an absolute handful for any adult. She snorts at the very idea that Holtz was ever peaceful. She can imagine cute; she can't imagine sound asleep. Rather than respond, she leans forward and kisses Holtz's nose. Holtz follows her back for another kiss, and soon enough, she's comfortably underneath her companion while their kisses become more heated.

Eventually, Erin wiggles a hand up between them and catches Holtz's mouth with her fingers. "We really need to sneak you over to Abby's place."

"I don't know," Holtz argues. "I'm pretty content right here."

"We have an entire society to save. I think that our personal relationship can wait."

"Can it?"

"Yes." Erin bumps her hips up in an attempt to free herself, but Holtz rides the rowdiness with a grin.

"Why, Dr. Gilbert, I didn't know you were so… thrusty."

"Get off me, Holtz." Erin struggles a bit more and then lies still. Her heart is pounding but not in a good way; she hates being powerless. Trapped. Her voice wavers as she says, "Please."

Holtz leaps off and helps her sit up. "I'm sorry."

"It's–" Erin sucks in a deep, calming breath. It's not fine, so she refuses to say those words. She shakes her head. "I don't like that."

"Noted."

"I know you were just playing around, but–"

"But nothing. I'm sorry." Holtz holds her hands and gazes at her. "My bad, seriously."

Erin's heart slows, and she runs a hand through her tangled hair. She just wants to move past this moment–to recapture the happiness she'd felt just minutes before. Cupping Holtz's cheek, she manages a loose smile.

"Let's go have breakfast, and then I'll get you ready for your trip."

"My trip?"

Holtz trails after her into the kitchen and leans against the counter. Erin nods, selecting two eggs from their limited supplies. As she heats up a pan to make a simple omelette to split, she explains her plans: they'll dye Holtz's hair and put Holtz in one of her uniforms. If nobody looks too close at the identification badge, then she'll be able to pass unnoticed across town.

"I don't really want to dye my hair."

"Well, you've got a distinct style. Unless you're willing to shave?"

Holtz laughs. "No, but I'm willing to let my hair down."

"Down." Erin turns from the stove. "What do you mean?"

Holtz reaches into the rat's nest of her hair, removes a dozen or so hairpins, and lets a mass of blonde curls cascade down past her shoulders. Erin stares. She blinks. She opens her mouth to say something and then snaps her jaw shut again. Preening under the attention, Holtz tucks the pins away and twirls in a circle.

"Just call me Rapunzel."

"What?" Erin looks back at the stove to focus her thoughts once more. She recalls the childhood story and nods. "Oh, right. The tower and the hair."

"Yup."

"Why didn't I know about this?"

"I don't normally take it down. It's easier, y'know? I don't worry as much about how dirty it is because nobody can really see it."

"It looks… pretty."

"Thanks."

Erin flushes bright red. She'd meant to say something stronger, but the proper words to express her feelings escaped her. "More than pretty. You–you're very pretty."

Holtz struts up behind her and holds her hips. She nestles her mouth behind Erin's ear, presses a kiss, and murmurs. "You're very pretty, too."

"I think I understand why you didn't want to start a relationship right now," Erin replies. She stares down at the eggs, which have started to burn. She shifts the pan from the heat source and turns about. "You're very distracting, Jill."

"It's one of my charms, I'm told."

"You ruined our breakfast."

"Ruined?" Holtz peers past her and shakes her head. "Like marshmallows, everything tastes better a little burned."

Erin rolls her eyes. "I'm glad you think so because there's no fixing this."

"You'd be surprised." Holtz scoots around her, snags a knife, and dices the egg into bite-sized pieces. She opens the fridge and steals a small portion of cheese, which she shreds on top. To finish it off, she throws a dash of salt and presents the plate to Erin. "Nothing is beyond repair, Erin. Nothing."

Erin accepts the plate. "So I'm learning."

They eat quietly, and Erin decides the eggs are actually fairly good. Her eyes dart to Holtz more than once, although she never catches Holtz looking at her. She sets the plate in the sink and ushers Holtz to her bedroom once more. She locates a fairly clean uniform, and her blonde companion sniffs the collar and smiles.

"I think I'll like this."

"Stop being a weirdo and get dressed."

"Yes, ma'am."

She straightens the outfit and primps Holtz's hair. Satisfied that nobody will recognize her as a person of interest, Erin tells her the quickest way to Abby's apartment. Once there, Abby will guide her to the lab, where she'll be able to construct her device. At the end of the day, she can either stay at Abby's or find her way home. Erin expects her to do what is safest, but Holtz surprises her with a promise to be back before midnight. She kisses Holtz by the front door, clinging to the shorter woman. Somewhere deep in her gut, she fears that this will be the last time she sees Holtz.

0000

To and fro, Erin paces the length of her apartment. She's only been alone for an hour or so, but every second that ticks by is a chance that Holtz has gotten caught. She checks the street from time to time, but the dark-suited men never reappear. Finally, when her legs burn and her feet ache, she slumps down on the couch and seeks a distraction. The wire provides a news report regarding the southernmost state of the United American Order.

A small group of anarchist rebels had been caught in the early hours of the morning with contraband and anti-governmental materials. She stares at the images of the prisoners and forces herself not to look away. If she believes the wire, then they are guilty of treason. Yet, she isn't sure what to think because she looks at their visages and doesn't see heinous villains. For all she knows, they have been polite dissenters or even the victim of a slight political disagreement blown out of proportion. Her stomach churns at the thought that they might not deserve the punishment coming to them. Any and all traitors are euthanized for the good of the country.

Deep in the hollow of her chest, she doesn't believe that she or Holtzmann deserves to die for what they're doing. She sees herself in the eyes of those protesters and feels cowardice welling up. She should call this whole thing off. They can have some sort of life together, if they just forget all about weather machines and helping people. It wouldn't be ideal, but they would both be alive.

One of the protestors on the wire shoves a guard out of the way and screams at the camera. Half of his words are cut off, and the rest is immediately garbled by the wire station. She squints at him crumpling over after the butt of a gun slams his mouth and marvels at how hard he struggles. She's not brave, and she's not passionate about much other than physics.

How she'd even gotten tangled up in these illicit activities is a blur to her. All she knows for certain is that she's in much deeper than she ever anticipated.

That and sitting there alone is doing nothing to calm her frazzled nerves. It's hard to be strong by herself, so she decides to see if Patty will visit. She calls Patty and nervously chats for several minutes before revealing her true purpose. The taller woman enthuses about the prospect of coming by as soon as Erin admits that she's alone. Within twenty minutes, Patty's on her couch with her, chatting about the latest book she found at the abandoned library.

"The building I'm in these days used to have a bar on the first floor. Can you believe that?"

"Really?" Erin's not too interested in the history of liquor, but anything is better than letting her thoughts stray again.

"Maybe twenty-five, thirty years ago, you could get a license to serve alcohol pretty easily. D'you remember anyone in your family drinking wine when you were a kid?"

Erin thinks back and nods. She remembers the dark red liquid with the pungent aroma. "Sunday dinners, my mom and dad would each have a glass. I'd ask to taste it, but they told me I wasn't old enough."

"You old enough now. Too bad there's no wine for us regular folk." Patty slouches against the couch and loops her arms around the back. "My brother found an old bottle of scotch one time. Only time I've ever been drunk. Well, I think I was drunk. Don't really have anybody or anything to compare the feeling to, y'know?"

"I think I'm in love," Erin blurts out. "I mean, I don't have anybody or anything to compare the feeling to, either, but I think I am."

Patty tilts her head and smiles. "A certain mutual friend of ours?"

"At the same time, though, I'm so scared–what if… certain things are discovered by certain people?" She licks her lips, stares at the ground, and searches for her next few words. "I don't… I don't think I'd make it through something like that."

Patty rubs her forearm in a comforting manner. "Baby, you need to relax. Love is good, as long as you're healthy about it. I saw that bruise on your arm. That wasn't her, right?"

"Oh, no. Never. That was, uh, certain people." Erin's grin wobbles. "They didn't find her, but they roughed me up a little. Yesterday."

"Well, shit. I wish you woulda told me. My brother snuck me some lotion that's supposed to help with stuff like this."

"Where'd he get it from?"

"Erin. We are not the only people in the country with our interests."

She can still see the faces of those being led to execution and shivers. "I know that."

"It's kind of a family business."

"What do you mean?"

"Sometimes it's medicine. Sometimes it's people. How you think our friend knew to ask me for help disappearing?"

Erin shrugs and fumbles with the loose fabric of her pajama pants. "I feel like I don't actually know anything about anyone anymore."

"That's the world we live in, I guess. They got us second-guessing even our friends."

"I trust you, though, and I trust her."

"Good. That's all we need right now."

"You think she's really going to change things?"

"I think she's going to damn well try. I've known her a while now. That girl never gives up once she starts something. Like a cat with its claw stuck in some fabric."

Erin laughs at the imagery and leans against Patty's shoulder. Patty hugs her close and tells her an anecdote from yet another book. She listens to the story with more attention, and she's surprised to find that history can actually be interesting in the right hands. She doesn't verbally express her gratitude for Patty's presence, but she hopes her smile and newfound calmness send the right message.

Alone, she's a wreck. With her friends, she feels like she can stand up to anyone, even the Bradley mob.

0000

Holtz doesn't show up by midnight.

Patty left at nine with a promise to check in the next day, and Erin retired to bed. Not to sleep, exactly, but to at least try to rest. The calm instilled by Patty evaporates quickly as the time slips from eleven to twelve, and she's still alone. The door remains shut and the halls quiet. The need to purge her stomach swells, but she clamps down as best she can. She doesn't eat enough to want to lose any of her nutrients.

The need to cry, however, doesn't have as extreme of consequences, so she allows herself a few fickle tears. When a headache builds behind her temples, she realizes just how dehydrated she is and regrets the moment of weakness. She pushes her fingers to the corners of her eyes and sucks in breath after breath until she feels a semblance of calm once more.

If Holtz has been caught, then the men in the suits will come for her soon. She bets Holtz will put up a fight, but she's aware of mob's lack of care when it comes to their captives. Holtz is strong willed, but Erin doesn't think anyone could hold their tongue when faced with advanced torture techniques. She wouldn't blame Holtz for giving her up.

She rolls onto her side but bolts up a moment later when the front door creaks open. Wrapping her arms around her body, she marches to the living room. She's afraid of who she'll find waiting for her there, but she can't just wait in her bedroom and wonder if it's all over. The floorboards squall under her feet, which she knows is a giveaway of her position. Thankfully, the only person in her living room is the one person she needs to see.

"You're late."

Holtz blushes and scratches the back of her head. "We got it done."

"Already?"

"Your pal is as great as you are."

Erin's heart warms, even as her jealousy flairs. "She's brilliant."

"I mean, you're the one I thought about kissing all day," Holtz amends. "But I did want to lick her brain."

"That's gross."

"But also potentially tasty?"

"Gross."

"You keep yourself busy today?"

"Patty came by."

Holtz eyes her curiously. "You sound a little–I don't know–perturbed?"

"I'm not," Erin says too quickly. She reaches up to fiddle with a strand of her hair and sniffs. "It's almost one in the morning. We should get some sleep."

"Oh."

"What?"

Holtz prances over and grabs Erin's shoulders. She yanks Erin in for a tight hug. "You were worried about little, old me."

For a moment, Erin resists the comfort. In the end, she leans into the embrace and closes her eyes. She inhales Holtz's scent and tries to convince herself that everything will be okay. Holtz wasn't caught. They weren't coming to arrest and kill her. She sniffles until she hears the sound of crackling. Drawing back, she watches Holtz pull a candy bar from her pocket.

"Abby had a few of these laying around. I thought you might like one. You know? As a victory celebration."

Erin takes the bar and murmurs a few words of genuine gratitude. She hasn't eaten chocolate in years, and it's too rich. After two bites, she offers the bar back to Holtz, who wraps her mouth around the tip and winks.

"Thanks for sharing."

Flushing red, Erin shrugs. "I like to celebrate with those important to me."

Holtz pushes the bar out of the way and kisses Erin gently. The chocolate flavor mingles between their lips, and Erin decides that she prefers to experience the taste in this manner. When Holtz draws back, she smiles and touches her lips.

"Delicious." Holtz yawns and nods. "But you're right. It's late."

"I was upset that it's after midnight, and you promised…" she trails off and feels embarrassed about everything. She should have trusted that Holtz knew what she was doing.

"I know. Just not used to having anyone care, y'know?" Holtz ducks her head.

"Right. And it's fine–"

"No, I promised. I'll do better in the future."

Erin hesitates, unsure if this promise means they have more time together or if Holtz is talking off the cuff. She cups Holtz's cheek. "I'm just glad you're home in one piece. Did you say it's done?"

"Hell yeah it is! We've got the scrambler prepped for tomorrow, and Abby's working on the message we'll send over the wire. We think it's best to keep this localized, at least until we're sure it'll work."

"Will we need to find their machine?"

"No. Abby added some programming that will let it trace and follow any updates the mob tries to implement. We'll keep scrambling until they find us."

A lump gathers in Erin's throat. "They'll kills us if they do."

"Not if we can get the people on our side first."

"I don't think I've ever participated in something this stressful before. You're making me go gray, Holtz."

"I think you'd look very distinguished." Holtz toys with her hair and smirks. "You ever think about dying it red? I think it'd look cute."

"Once, when I was a kid. My mom bought a box called 'Garfield' because she recognized the name from the cartoons. I looked like a carrot for weeks." Erin shakes her head. "I vowed never again."

"That's cool. You look gorgeous as is."

Holtz heads to the bedroom with Erin right behind. She sheds the uniform and stands before Erin in just her undergarments. There's a moment of still silence before she peels off her bra and underwear as well. Erin stares.

"It's warm?" Holtz offers.

"Yeah," Erin agrees, her mouth dry. She fumbles with her shirt. "You–you've got the right idea, I think."

Even though she's self-conscious with Holtz's unyielding gaze on her, she pulls her clothing off as well. The floorboards creak, and Holtz grabs her bare hips. A few quiet compliments roll off Holtz's tongue, but soon, she finds something better to do with her mouth.


	3. Chapter 3

Erin stands at the window and watches the clouds roll overhead. There hasn't been a drop of rain, yet, but this overcast weather is a good sign. When Abby wired earlier that she had activated the scrambler remotely, Erin almost expected water to just gush down from the sky. She tends to have expectations that are too high, she muses. She nibbles on her lower lip and listens to Holtz messing about her with microwave. The device will never work quite the same way, since Holtz took a select few parts for her inventing, but she hopes that it will eventually heat food without causing any fires.

"Maybe just a bit of smoke," Holtz assures her. "I promise nothing I build explodes. Well, unless I want it to."

Erin smiles at her companion and joins her on the couch. Their knees knock together, and Erin thinks about the night before. Her cheeks color, and she looks away. "About last night–"

"It's okay. Totally okay."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Holtz elbows her gently. "We all move at a different pace. I don't want you to feel pressured."

"I'm just really stressed," she admits. With everything that's happening, she just can't relax enough for the sort of physical intimacy that had sprung up between them. She wants close contact, but her mind is too busy to let loose completely. Knowing that Holtz does want to have sex while she doesn't makes her nervous. She hopes she's not a complete disappointment.

As if reading her thoughts, Holtz taps her knee cap and leers at her. "Even if you never want to have sex, I like you, okay?"

"Never?"

"Okay, so I'd be a little sad that I didn't get to bring you Sex Town, population you, but it's not a big deal."

Erin brightens at Holtz's beguiling smile. "Thank you."

"Yeah, I know. I'm the greatest."

"When do you think it'll rain?"

Holtz shrugs and resumes tinkering. "Could be soon, or it could take a while. I mean, we assume it'll rain, but honestly, we have no idea what'll happen without the mob controlling the weather. Maybe they already fucked everything up so bad that nature can't go back. Maybe this is how life is now."

Erin frowns. "I don't like that."

"Neither do I, but we have to keep things in perspective."

"You're right." Erin sighs and slouches. She's been dreaming of a life without rations–she could shower whenever she wanted, for as long as she desired; she could guzzle water until she felt sick; and she could cook lavish dinners that actually made her feel full. Hell, simply washing her hands in the sink without worrying would be divine.

"I think I got it!" Holtz slams the microwave shut, beaming and pointing. "Want to try it?"

"Not until we have something to heat up."

A moment after she speaks, there's the sound of something loud exploding in the distance. Erin drops down and covers her head, fear constricting her lungs and clouding her thoughts. Something has gone terribly wrong, and they're going to be killed. Holtz hits the ground beside her and wraps her in a hug.

"You're okay, Erin. I promise."

"But–"

"Don't you remember?"

She blinks slowly and struggles upright. "Remember?"

"That sound."

"No."

Listening, she closes her eyes and tries not to tremble at the noise. She does recognize it–but she can't place where. Then, after the third crash, she remembers hiding under her blankets while rain pattered on the roof. She scrambles to the window and stares with open awe at the first few droplets of rain dripping down from the clouds.

"Thunder," she says in a tone both shocked and reverent.

"Don't forget the lightning." Holtz stands and slips her hands around Erin's waist. She rests her chin on Erin's shoulder and grins. "Very, very frightening."

"Oh, hush." Erin doesn't mind the playful teasing. She can't feel much other than unmitigated happiness at the moment. They've done it. There's still a fight to be had in removing the corrupt powers controlling the city, but at least the rain is falling. She watches people flood the streets, their heads tilted back in wonderment, before nodding. "We should get our message out."

"Mm. You decide what to say, yet?"

"Yes."

Holtz guides her to the wire and sits her down. After tweaking a few knobs, Holtz gestures for her to speak. Awkward at first, she announces that she's a citizen of the city with sensitive information. Because it will be easy for anyone to track down the address from which she's transmitting, there is no use in hiding her identity. The group agreed prior that she was the best figurehead for their project, given her rather safe and law-abiding history. Holtz would look like a maniac, in contrast, while Abby and Patty could easily be depicted as rebels with a violent, dissenting history. Erin has followed every rule ever invented, so she won't be as easily smeared.

"This is rain, for those of you who are too young to remember. It used to happen quite a bit, but then Thomas Bradley and his family designed a machine to stop the rain completely. Because of them, water became a commodity. If you're like me, you can see the injustice in this–as well as the negative ecological impact. In order to gain power, they sacrificed our health, our rights, and our freedoms, as well as the planet's well being. They cannot be allowed to continue."

Holtz grips her shoulder and squeezes. Erin gains confidence and speaks more steadily.

"We've done our best to stop their interference with the natural order. Enjoy this rain today but remember that tomorrow they may find a way to take it from us again. Don't let that happen. Don't let tomorrow's children grow up in the same world you did. Fight back."

Holtz presses a button, and the message zips out to every available device. There are so many nearby that Erin can hear her voice split over multiple sites, talking in unison, repeating her plea. Holtz grabs her hand and tilts her head toward the door.

"Want to go feel it?"

"Oh, yes." Erin needs no further prompting. She gets ahead of Holtz and darts downstairs. As soon as she's in the street, she mimics everyone else: she tilts her head back and feels the water on her face. A laugh burbles in her chest, and soon, she can't tell if it's rain on her cheeks or tears.

0000

Erin steps in a puddle and laughs with delight. She hasn't seen a puddle in much too long, and she can't resist the urge to jump in the water and splash everyone around her. One of the other people on the street glares at her, but the rest follow her example. Holtz grabs her arm and spins her around. Holtz's yellow hair is soaking wet and plastered to her forehead, and some of the pins holding the strands in place jut up at odd angles. Despite the dishevelment, she's beautiful, and Erin cups her cheeks.

"We did this."

"I know!" Holtz holds her wrists. "Together! Me and my nosiness, and you and your big, beautiful brain!"

"You did a lot more than just be nosy."

"Okay, I also broke your microwave."

Erin shakes her head. Rain dribbles into her eyes and makes seeing difficult, so she wipes the back of her hand across her forehead. When she was four, she had an umbrella–bright yellow, with large white eyes and an orange bill jutting out the front. She'd named it Ducky, much to her mother's consternation. Looking back, she's not sure if her mother's disapproval stemmed from the asinine name or her desire to ascribe personality to an inanimate object. Ducky had gotten thrown away some years after the last rainfall, and she'd cried. She supposes that Ducky would be too small to protect her now; instead, Holtz notices her plight and strips out of her shirt.

Erin accepts her shirt with a shy smile and drapes it over her head with one arm, trying her best not to look down at Holtz's toned stomach and pebbled skin. She especially doesn't notice the nibs of Holtz's nipples, which prod against the thin material of Holtz's bra. She swallows with an audible gulp and flushes bright red. Holtz winks at her and takes her hand. As their fingers tangle together, she decides that she'd really like to finish what they'd started the night before.

"Holtz–"

"Did you see people are bringing out bowls and buckets?" Holtz points excitedly down the street. "They think this is a one time thing."

"It might be," Erin replies. She hopes not, however.

"Should we do that, too?"

"We don't know how clean the water is, and we don't have a means for purification. We could boil it, but I'd rather we didn't take any chances until everything is settled."

Holtz nods, a bit glum. "You're right. You always are."

"Not always."

"Name one time."

"In fourth grade, I got an eighty-nine percent on my language arts test."

"Ouch."

"Mrs. Arms thought I could do a more thorough job with my journaling." Erin laughs. "She knew I was just skating by."

"My girlfriend, the genius."

A moment passes while Erin processes. Being Holtz's significant other wouldn't be so bad. She grins. "Yeah."

"Yeah?" Holtz squeezes her hand.

She kisses Holtz slowly, allowing the rain to mingle from her nose to Holtz's. Holtz grips her elbow and leans into the embrace. The sounds of euphoria and pounding rain surround them, and Erin feels like she's in a safe, warm bubble of happiness. When they break apart, she rests her forehead against Holtz's.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, for sure."

"When you found out about the mobs and the weather, why didn't you just run?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know plenty of people who would have wanted to flee and save their own lives. But you stuck around and tried to change things. Why?"

"Would you believe that I just really love rain?"

"No."

Holtz shrugs. "I grew up in the system. People only took me in for the extra rations, and you can bet I didn't get any of those portions. It sucks, Erin. This whole system sucks. I'd rather die setting the world free than live at all."

Erin tugs her close. "I'm sorry."

"You shared with me," Holtz whispers. "That's when I knew I loved you."

They collide together with more intensity, and Erin is just slipping her tongue into Holtz's mouth when they're yanked apart. She glowers at the woman restraining Holtz before realizing that her own arms are pinned behind her back.

"You are Erin Gilbert and Jillian Holtzmann."

It's not phrased as a question, but Erin nervously answers anyway: "Yes."

"Come with us."

"I don't suppose we have a choice, do we?" Holtz gets a cuff to the head for her impertinence.

They are shoved none too nicely into the back seat of a sleek black car. Vehicles like this mean only one thing: the Bradley mob. Erin drips on the leather seats and tries to keep her knee from bouncing nervously. She regrets not sleeping with Holtz because apparently they'll never get the chance ever again. Holtz touches her thigh and smiles at her.

"It's okay."

It isn't, Erin wants to say. Just because Holtz is willing to die to free the world doesn't mean she is, too. She cringes at the thought–not of death, per se, but of the pain that will most certainly precede and accompany her demise. The mob will not be kind to them, and she thinks once more of the prisoners she watched on the wire.

"Erin."

She focuses back on Holtz, who peers at her closely. "Yes?"

"Look, whatever happens, I'll do my best to protect you. It's my fault you're in this mess."

"Maybe, but I knew what I was choosing when I agreed to help." Despite her terror, she isn't going to let Holtz die alone. She scoots a little closer as the car lurches forward and rests her head on Holtz's shoulder. "At least we made it rain."

"There is that. And I know it was a bit of a joke before, but it's true–I really do love the rain."

"I'm glad we got to see it before…" she clears her throat. "And I'm glad I got to know you."

"Me, too."

Erin closes her eyes and takes long, measured breaths to slow her racing heart. She feels the bounces in the road, but mostly, she concentrates on Holtz's warm hand on her leg.

0000

They're dragged out of the car and marched into a gray building that Erin can't identify. She lingers close to Holtz, unable to hide her fear. At the end of a hallway, they're guided into a lavishly decorated room, where a small, dark-haired man sits at a large, hardwood desk. He toys with a sharp letter opener while he waits for their guards to thrust them forward. Erin stumbles a step, but Holtz nabs her elbow and keeps her upright.

"Ladies," the man says slowly, placing the opener down and folding his fingers together. His hair is slicked back, and his wide, blue eyes appraise them from top to bottom. He's flanked on both sides by men in suits, one Black and the other white. These guards are stiff and unmoving, and Erin doesn't hope for any help from them.

"Dickbag and company," Holtz replies.

Erin nudges her and jerks her head. This is not the time to antagonize their captors. Thankfully, the man doesn't seem perturbed by Holtz's attitude. He merely stares at them until a bead of sweat builds on Erin's temple and trickles slowly down her face.

"I'm a busy man, so I'll keep this short. You will provide us with what we want to know, and perhaps, we can arrange for you to leave here alive."

"Never." Holtz musters a bit of saliva and spits on the floor. "You can kill me, if you want. I won't talk. And this one here doesn't know anything."

The man waves his hand, and someone drags Erin from the room. She struggles against being separated from Holtz, but her wrists are quickly bound. Escape becomes a far-away dream as she's slammed into a metal chair and roped down. She squirms, but the friction of skin on rope is painful.

"Dr. Gilbert," a voice greets from somewhere behind her. She cranes her neck and spots the white man, although his suit has been traded for a white smock. "I have a few questions for you."

"I don't know anything." Her neck aches, and she returns her gaze forward. She listens to the neat snick of his well-shined shoes and follows his movements around the room. There's the sound of metal grating on metal, and she fights a wave of panic.

"That can't be true. You're an expert in your field, aren't you?"

"Well, yes."

"So, let's start simple. Did you see the plans Dr. Holtzmann stole from her lab?"

Cold steel slides against her thigh. She trembles, glad that the flat of the blade is all that touches her. She's also glad that she can answer the first question honestly. "No."

The blade turns and dips against her skin. Erin blacks out.

She wakes up an unknown number of minutes later. Her leg hurts, but she's not brave enough to look down. Instead, she clenches her eyes shut and paces her breathing to keep from vomiting. A hand lands on her shoulder, and she flinches.

"You don't strike me as a bad person," he says calmly. The pressure on her shoulder is warm and almost comforting, like he's her father. "In fact, you being here isn't right, is it?"

"No," she whispers. Her voice shakes.

"No," he agrees. Very gently, he squats beside her and applies a numbing balm to her thigh. He cleans up the blood, and since the wound is shallow, he uses a simple adhesive bandage. "I really didn't like doing that to you, Dr. Gilbert, because I know that you're not the troublemaker here. I've looked into your records. You've got a very fine academic background and a career that's proven very useful to the country."

She sits silently, uncertain as to where this is going. He stands in front of her and folds his hands in front of his waist. They look one another over, and she thinks she sees some form of empathy in his gaze.

He continues, "You aren't the problem, and you don't deserve to die."

Implicit is the understanding that if she isn't the problem, Holtzmann is. Erin wants very badly to protect the blonde, but she isn't sure she's strong enough.

Teeth clattering, she admits, "I don't know what you mean."

From behind him, he withdraws his delicate steel knife and twists the handle between his palms. "You're too smart to play dumb, doctor."

Her heart hammers, and tears well in her eyes. He places the metal against her skin again, and she blurts out, "I helped with the calculations! But I don't know where anything is or how it functions."

The blade presses a little harder, not quite breaking the skin. She panics anyway. "Please! I can replicate my work. I don't want to die!"

"What–"

A banging on the door interrupts his question. Much to Erin's relief, the knife disappears as the man stalks to the door. She can't quite hear the conversation, but she can hear footsteps leaving. When nobody comes back to help or hurt her, she surmises that she's alone. Ashamed of how easily she cracked, she dips her head and sniffles. Some rebel she's turned out to be. The tears dribble down her nose and splatter onto her lap.

Her thoughts drift to Holtz, who is likely being grilled much more intensely than she is. She bets that Holtz didn't say anything, and she stews in her failure once more. Holtz is strong and brave–and everything Erin is not. If Holtz had gone to literally anyone else for help, the country might have stood a chance.

The door bangs open, and the man stands before her again. His hands are curled into tight fists, and he glowers down at her. "We'll pick this up again in an hour or so."

He hefts her up, drags her down the hallway, and throws her into a small, dark room, where she crumbles to the ground and draws her knees to her chest. The action stretches the tender skin of her thigh, but she needs the comfort the position provides. The day started out so well, but rather than cuddling in her apartment, enjoying the rich scent of the first rain, she's stuck in a windowless cell that shrinks with every passing moment. Just as the walls seem to be caving in around her, a quiet but familiar voice comes from a shadowy corner.

"Are you okay?"

0000

Scrambling across the space, Erin makes her way to Holtz's side and immediately checks Holtzmann for injury. She expects to find Holtzmann a bloody mess and is relieved that there is no physical damage to the blonde at all. Her heart slows from its hummingbird rampage to a more consistent jackhammer. Holtz grips her shoulders and kisses her.

Erin sighs, her anxiety tamed for the moment. "I'm so glad you're alright."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too." She closes her eyes and builds up a burst of courage to admit: "I–I talked. I told them that I helped you, that I would recreate the math for them if they wanted. They only hurt me once, and I just gave up. I'm sorry. I'm sorry–"

"I know."

Erin draws up short and stares. "You know."

Holtz nods and trembles. "I was about to tell them everything, too."

"But I didn't think any kind of torture would work on you."

"They made me watch what they were doing to you. I could make it all stop if I told them everything. They'd even let you go home." Holtz ducks her head. "What does that say about me, huh? That I'd give everything up just to save you some pain."

Erin ducks her head. "If anything, it's because you know I wouldn't have been able to take it. I should have been stronger. I shouldn't have broken so easily."

Tears dribble down her cheeks again, and Holtz hugs her closer. "No. Seriously, no matter how stone-faced or stoic you were, I would have given up. I promised to protect you."

Erin snorts as she cries and manages a wobbling smile. Although she's petrified, she whispers, "Don't tell them anything. Make me a new promise, Holtzmann. Promise that you won't say anything, no matter what they show being done to me."

"I don't think I can do that." Holtz shifts back, but Erin grabs her hands.

"You have to. This is bigger than me. If we give up what we know…" She thinks of Abby and Patty and frowns. She won't reveal that there are others wrapped up in this plot, not even if that man pushes a blade into her skin again. "We just can't, okay?"

Holtz meets her gaze and seems to understand. "I'm not comfortable with this, for the record."

"I know."

Grabbing Erin's hands, Holtz shakes her head. "I don't think you do. Erin, I would die for you."

"I don't want you to. I don't want anyone to!" Erin stands abruptly and pins her temples with her fingertips to counteract the sudden tunneling of her vision.

"Er, just sit down. We haven't eaten in a pretty long time, and you're coming off a bit of adrenaline." Holtz eases her down again and kisses the crown of her head.

They sit together in silence for endless minutes. Erin tries counting in her head but quickly halts when she realizes there's no point. Every once in a while, someone walks by the door to their room, but it never opens. She wonders if this is a form of torture in itself. Holtz eventually drifts into an uneasy sleep, something that is impossible for Erin. She can't draw her eyes away from the door, as she's afraid of what will happen when neither of them are paying attention.

Her patience is rewarded the moment the door squalls open without preamble. She wobbles to her feet and pushes her hands out in front of her body, in a vain attempt to protect herself. Instead of a black-suited mob member, she finds herself in front of Abby, who immediately wraps her up in a tight hug. She must be hallucinating. She rubs her eyes, blinks, and shakes her head, but Abby is well and truly standing in the doorway.

The effect is rejuvenating.

Erin laughs and hugs her again. "What are you doing here?"

"After you sent out that message, people were out in the rain celebrating. But the rain didn't last forever. They saw you get taken and where." Abby seems unwilling to let her go. "We hoped we weren't too late."

"No, we're both alive. Holtz is sleeping."

"Well, the mob got taken over by a mob. I'm not sure we're in any better shape than before, honestly, except that this mob is unruly and lacking in leadership." Abby stares at her. "You do know you're gonna do that, right?"

"What?" Erin jerks back.

"You're the voice on the wire. You're going to be the one people look to for guidance."

"But it was Holtz's idea."

"I build things," Holtz says, breaking into the conversation with a yawn and a smile. "I'm not really the leading type."

"And I am?"

"Heck yeah, you are."

Erin doesn't believe either of them and folds her arms over her chest. "Abby, you're more personable. You do it. Patty's a great strategist. She can do it."

"They want you, Erin." Abby claps her back. "Come on, leader of the free world."

Erin sputters but doesn't fight as Abby and Holtz each take one of her arms and pull her out into the hallway. She finds better words the closer they get to the sounds of mob activity, but neither woman listens to her complaints. She's thrust into a room of raucous people, all of whom fall silent when she enters. She lifts a hand, hesitant.

"Hello." All eyes land on her, and she continues, "Um, I'm Erin Gilbert. I sent you that message before? About the rain?"

A cheer sounds, and Holtz's hand slips into hers. Once again, she draws strength from their connection.

"I'm super glad you came to get us–" she pauses to let them roar again, "–but I think it's time to discuss what comes next. And I'd really like whatever is on the horizon to be peaceful. We've lived too long being forced around and abused for stepping out of line. I don't want to be worse than them. I want to be better. Don't you?"

The crowd claps instead of screaming, and Erin folds into Holtz's hug. She's exhausted, and she just wants to go home.

0000

Guarding her eyes against the sun, Erin peers out at the rows of sprouting crops. The season is still young, but she's hopeful that this year will yield a more hearty harvest than the last. Abby assures her that people will grumble about everything, but that doesn't stop her from feeling personally guilty about the lack of food the winter prior. She turns her attention to Patty, who stands beside her.

"Are we all set out here?"

"Yeah. Some of that fertilizer I read about is doin' its job. Man, if they could make that shit without the rank stench… It's awful. And it doesn't lighten up at all."

Erin laughs. "Then let's get back inside with the good news. I think everyone could use a bit of that."

In the scant year and a half since their first shower, too much has changed for Erin to actively comprehend. The corrupt government had fallen at the feet of its people, and Erin had grudgingly taken up the mantle of temporary leader. She's aware that her duties will likely extend beyond her initial expectations–a year or two, tops–but she can't just abandon the new order she was instrumental in creating. Moreover, the storms she helped return to the world have wrought havoc. The infrastructure of the old government was ill-prepared for the sudden onslaught of downpours.

Creeks, once almost devoid of moisture, over flowed. Ancient sewers backed up, clogged, and flooded. The streets wouldn't drain, and a milieu of unforeseen social problems erupted as a result. The people needed someone to yell at, and she had a good deal of experience in that realm. Despite decrying her ineffectiveness, nobody has challenged her position, so she thinks she's not totally failing.

In any event, Holtz tells her every night that's she's doing a good job. This sometimes feels like she's a trained lion desperately seeking a hunk of raw meat for a trick, except she's performing complex political tasks instead of roaring at a crowd of disinterested tourists.

"Thank the rain you're back." Abby grabs her hand and drags her to second floor as soon as they're back in the old firehouse they've converted to a head quarters. Since the rampant heat has given way to regular storms, there's been less of a need for the service, and the building suits their needs nicely. "Tell Holtz she's not allowed to use explosives in any of her inventing. She won't listen to me."

"You think I can control her?" Erin gazes fondly at her friend, who huffs.

"You more so than anyone else."

"I'll do my best," she promises just before being thrust into Holtz's work space. She sidesteps a teetering pile of scrap metal and avoids stepping on something that appears sentient. Spotting Holtz bent over a work bench, she approaches and tickles the back of Holtz's neck.

Holtz squeals and tosses her tools. "I didn't do it!"

"Really?"

"Of course not." Holtz turns and winks. "What's with the surprise attack?"

"Abby tells me you're trying to blow up the building."

"Not this building. But a building, maybe."

Erin props her hands on her hips and looks suitable aghast. "Holtzmann!"

"Look, we have a lot of worn down buildings that consume too much energy. We can either waste a ton of hours and power on breaking them down, or I can come up with a safe and efficient method for demolition."

"Oh." She straightens and rubs the back of her neck. "I guess that doesn't sound too bad."

"Also, I like when things go boom."

"Holtz…"

"Erin, you know I'm not gonna destroy anything without your say-so. You're the boss lady." Holtz takes her hand and kisses her knuckles.

Erin flushes. Even after such a long time, Holtz has the power to fluster her completely with nothing but a simple touch and a kind word. "Thank you. It's been a bit rough today."

"You went out with Patty to see the fields, right?"

"Yeah."

"They growing okay? None of the wilting from last year?"

Erin shakes her head. "It's still too early to tell how many are going to survive and produce, but you know we're going to have a crowd in the lobby tomorrow demanding answers. Which, may I remind you, I don't have."

"So, tell the truth."

"You make that sound so easy."

"Erin, they're not looking for a two-hour long dissertation defense. They're just looking for hope." Holtz squeezes her hands. "And believe me. You're the right person to give it to them."

"Why, though?"

"Because you are them."

"Oh, please. Don't get poetic."

"I'm an artist at heart, my love," Holtz teases. She wraps her arms around Erin and pulls the taller woman onto her lap. "While Patty was smuggling goods, and Abby was building disruptors, and I was stealing plans, what were you doing?"

Erin hangs her head, disappointed by her answer. "Nothing."

"Exactly!"

"That's not really a glowing recommendation."

"To them it is. I promise. You were living just like they were, and then, the opportunity to change the world dropped into your lap. You did everything you could to help because you knew it was the right thing."

"I guess…"

"Okay. Pity party over. Get moving, sweet cheeks. I got some explosives to build."

Erin heaves to her feet and points a stern finger in Holtz's direction. "Don't you dare test those anywhere near this building."

"Oh my. I like it when you take charge. Gets me all hot and bothered."

Snorting, Erin turns to leave. "Well, you'll have to wait until later. I've apparently got important leadership decisions to make and some hope to dispense."

"Don't make me wait too long, okay?"

Erin tilts her head to catch Holtz's eye once more. The oddly dressed inventor is physically the same as the first time they met, but there's a gentleness to her smile and a few new smile lines around her eyes. Although she's gone through a gamut of trials to get to this point, she wouldn't change any of it.


End file.
